The Truth of Inheritance
by Mostodtroll
Summary: Ever wondered as you were reading Inheritance - "How did he come up with all this stuff? This is amazing." Well, here is your chance to find out the Truth of Inheritance. This alternate storyline depicts the characters in a parody version of events.
1. The Ra'zacSeeker Attack!

_A/N: This is how things should have happened, according to Mr Paolini's highly original writing style and authentic characters._

**Chapter One: The Seeker (Ra'zac) Attack!**

Eragon lived in a small village near the Spine (a.k.a the Spine of the World) called Carvahall (Emond's Field). He was a serious bloke, and he always felt like he needed to do what was right. He had a powerful sense of right and wrong, and tried to do good wherever he could.

Eragon woke up in his stereotypical straw mattress and decided to go hunting, the only thing he was partially good at. As he stalked his game, snapping numerous twigs, he was surprised to find a mysterious stone which had mysteriously appeared out of thin air directly in front of him.

The appearance of the 'stone' sent his game scurrying away. Eragon cursed so loudly that all the birds in the trees got away from him too. He picked up the stone in his hands and blew on it for no apparent reason. He decided to try and sell it to buy food for the winter (limited thinking) because he was a 'poor farm boy'. He was unsuccessful so he took it home.

One day, after doing all his tiring hard work on his uncle's farm (because he was a "poor farm boy"), he sat down on the porch and decided to read a book his uncle Garrow had given him. It was called "The Ruby Knight".

Garrow was quite stupid and didn't know that he had given his adventurous young nephew the _second_ book in the Elenium trilogy. But Eragon had no idea even though it was printed in the book that "the Ruby Knight" was the second book. Indeed, he couldn't even tell that the characters and plot had already been introduced.

But Eragon immediately liked the book, especially the servant of the evil god Azash: the Seeker. Surprisingly Eragon noticed a great deal of similarities between the Seeker and some visitors who had recently arrived in Carvahall (Emond's Field).

The visitors were called the Ra'zac, and they were also insectile, thin, evil and black cloaked like the Seeker. In the world of the Elenium, there are only two Seekers alive, just as there are only 2 Ra'zac left in Alagaesia. The Seeker also develops like the Ra'zac and eats human flesh.

Eragon liked the book so much that he went to Carvahall's library and "devoured every book Mr Eddings had ever published". He even went so far as to buy David Eddings' first fantasy series, the Belgariad. He noticed that the "evil, twisted god for a villain" was very similar to the King Galbatorix of the Empire. None in the Empire had yet figured out why he was called King and not Emperor since his domain was called the Empire.

While he was in the library having a flick through _Queen of Sorcery, _Eragon was find by one of the Ra'zac/Seekers.

"You," it said in a hiss, which sent chills down Eragon's bones. The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

Eragon turned and soon the Ra'zac was chasing him through the library, disrupting bookshelves and people alike. Eragon, being quite dim, had cornered himself in between two massive book cases in the fantasy section.

The Ra'zac was advancing, its pale face grinning behind its derivative black cloak. It was about to attack, but it was knocked into one of the shelves, sending a shower of Anne McCaffrey books onto the floor.

The one who had knocked it aside was Brom, the town storyteller, who greatly resembled Mr Wolf from the Belgariad…

_A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review and tell me what you think, your criticism is welcome._


	2. The Naming of the Dragon

_A/N: Here is chapter 2 of "The Truth of Inheritance". Hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Two:**

Brom picked up one of the Anne McCaffrey books.

"_Dragonflight_," he murmured.

"What?"

"_Dragonflight_!" boomed Brom. "It is a fascinating novel. When I was but 10 years old, my father gave me a copy and told me to read it. It instantly inspired me to become a Dragon Rider." He handed the classic 1968 tale to Eragon.

"Can you tell me about the Dragon Riders?" Asked Eragon.

"Yes," said Brom gruffly, "but not here. Come to my mansion in a week, after you have read _Dragonflight_. We shall talk over pizza and V.Bs."

"Okay," said Eragon.

But Eragon didn't get a chance to read _Dragonflight_ over the next week. Something very strange happened to him.

It was midnight, and he had just woken up because he had heard a strange cracking noise. He sat bolt upright on his straw mattress and looked at the massive blue stone which he had left on the floor. Eragon was astonished as the stone started to crack open. Soon a small, dragon-like creature was sitting on the floor.

But it wasn't sitting for long. It reared its bluish head up and began to approach him. Eragon began to whimper in fear as he tried to shy away from the animal-thing. Soon it was upon him, so in desperation he picked up _Dragonflight _from his bedside table and shoved it in front of its face.

It looked curiously at the picture of Ramoth (the golden dragon from _Dragonflight_), recognising its own kind. It then ripped up the book in its hunger.

Eragon was dumbfounded. He hurriedly fed it some strips of meat which his cousin Roran had got (because he was a better hunter).

While he was feeding it he accidentally touched its scales. A burning pain shot through his hand. It felt like his hand was on fire, and even though it wasn't, Eragon thought it was and blew on it. After a moment the searing pain died down and there was a silvery mark on his palm.

"Hey, that looks exactly like the mark of the Orb of Aldur on Garion's palm from the Belgariad," he mumbled.

He tried to get back to sleep. "The library is going to kill me," he muttered.

The next Saturday he went to Brom's mansion, hiding his now docile dragon-ling under his cloak. He rang the doorbell.

Brom looked in the video monitor from inside his mansion. He saw Eragon standing with almost the entire dragon's body poking out from under his cloak.

"Talk about trying to be inconspicuous," Brom muttered.

He brought Eragon inside and they sat down on a hi-tech, luxurious, fashionable, leather recliner each.

"So," said Brom, popping open a VB and throwing it at Eragon, who just managed to catch it, "what do ya wanna know?"

"Um," began Eragon, "I want to know about dragons and I want to know if Torak – ahem, sorry – Galbatorix is going to chase me now that I have this dragon thing." The dragon growled.

Brom wasn't listening. He finished sculling his VB and hurled it into the next room. He belched loudly and wiped his mouth. "What?"

Eragon repeated himself, getting more scared by the minute.

"Oh," said Brom, "well. The dragons were genetically engineered by the people who colonised this planet. They did it with lizards, pretty remarkable, huh?"

"Uh, ye-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," Brom cut him off, "Tora – ahem – Galbatorix will probably track you down. We have to get away from here. We should g-"

"_Dragonflight_ was ripped up," blurted Eragon, "This did it." He pointed at his dragon.

"You need to name it," said Brom. "Here are some names you might want to choose: Smaug, Ancalagon, Glaurung, Mnementh, Ruth, Ramoth, Canth, Jörmungandr, Norbert (the Norwegian Ridgeback) and… Saphira."

A telepathic bond much like the one in _Dragonriders of Pern _opened up between the dragon and Eragon.

_Are you Saphira?_

_No, how can I be? You haven't even named me yet you stupid boy. Dumbass._

_Can I name you Saphira?_

_Yes._

_Okay, you are Saphira. _

_Thankyou. _Came her exasperated thought.

"We need to go to the library in Dras-Leona," said Brom, "it is the only place that has a first edition copy of _Dragonflight. _It will greatly help you become a Dragon Rider."

"But I can't leave my uncle Garrow and my cousin Roran – ahem Tam al'Thor and Perrin Aybara - … what was that?"

"What?" Asked Brom, who hadn't been listening all that attentively.

"That thing I coughed," replied Eragon.

"Ah, you are beginning to realise the truth," explained Brom.

"The truth of what?"

"The Truth of Inheritance," said Brom mysteriously.

"What does that mean?" Asked Eragon.

"You will find out in the future."

They were silent for a moment, and then there was a horrific scream that sounded all too like Garrow…

_A/N: Hope you liked it and are also beginning to learn the Truth with our good friend Eragon. PLEASE review!_


	3. This Magic is the Most Derivative Thing

_**A/N:**__ If you are reading this, then thankyou for keeping with me through two Chapters of Roasting Paolini. I know all you loyal fans out there have all got _Brisingr _by now and I will get around to that soon! Please, read on!_

Quick parody: A review of Eldest: "Filled with darkness and evil, excitement and awe, this is a must for lovers of fantasy." Yes, it is a must for lovers of unoriginal, seen-it-before fantasy.

**Chapter Three: Paolini's Magic is the Most Derivative Thing**

Eragon rushed out of Brom's mansion, chest heaving. Garrow lay wounded on the street. His attackers, the Ra'Zac, were now sneaking away through the bushes at the edge of Carvahall.

"Uncle!" Eragon shrieked in anguish. He knelt beside his uncle, who was like a father to him. "No Uncle! You can't die! You were like a father to me!"

Garrow looked at him and smiled. "Selena would be…"

"What?" Said Eragon, shoving his ear in front of Garrow's mouth. He had recognised the name of his missing mother.

---------------- PAUSE ----------------

Eragon has never known his mother, or his father. In fact, the only thing he knows about his parents is his mother's name. This is a much used and typical layout for a conventional epic-fantasy novel. We couldn't have expected much more from Paolini.

----------------- RESUME ----------------

But Garrow's last breath had left his body. Eragon erupted into sobs and bowed his head.

_Sorrow breeds here,_ the voice of Saphira echoed inside Eragon's head. Of course, technology was not this advanced yet in such a stereo-typical medieval setting. What Saphira did expressed a magical telepathic communication which largely resembles Anne McCaffrey's _Dragonriders of Pern. _Convenient, yeah?

_What!_

_I don't know,_ said Saphira_, Paolini gave me that line. Sorrow can't actually _breed _–_

_Okay, Okay! _Eragon replied. _My Uncle has just died!_

_Fine, _said Saphira SMUGLY (doesn't fit does it? Well, Paolini fans across the globe will recognise the great author's continuous use of the word SMUGLY in almost every situation, even if it doesn't make sense). _Touching moment, huh?_

Eragon felt a rough hand grab his shoulder. He turned around to see Brom.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked, quite at ease.

"I am going to hunt down these murderers!" Eragon stated in a bass tone to emphasise his bravery. "I will kill them!"

"Well," said Brom, "You are very brave indeed. The Ra'zac are now off to Dras Leona; they must have overheard us talking about our mission there for the 1st edition _Dragonflight. _I suggest you pack your things; we will be leaving within the hour."

Eragon sulked over his uncle's body for a few more minutes, before he was forced to abandon him so he could pack his things and become a Dragon Rider superhero. He got some strips of meat and wrapped them in leather, denying Roran his dinner for that night. Roran was to become a miller in the nearby town of Therinsford, near the Anora River.

---------------- PAUSE ----------------

Anora is derived from the Elven (Yes I said it, Elven. Paolini's elves are strikingly similar to Tolkien's as are his dwarves and nam- well, you get the point) word Aёnora, which means in the Ancient Language. The humans transcribed the word to the simpler "A"nora. This is pretty much an example of Paolini trying to be sophisticated with his primitive language. His useless and multiple accounts of inserting random accented letters is evidence of this.

---------------- RESUME ----------------

He and Brom then hitched some random horses and headed out of the remote town in a meaningless rush. _Dragonflight _wasn't going anywhere, but the Ra'zac were.

Over the next few days Brom positively sparkled in his role as the wise yet grumpy mentor, who will likely be killed off later in the book. He gave Eragon lessons in swordplay, as he was in dire need of them to survive Brom's sudden fits of rage.

They passed through Therinsford, saw Roran slaving his guts out, and passed on to the deserted town of Yazuac, where the curious reader will find Paolini's evil tools which are his equivalents of orcs – Urgals. In their drunken madness these ferals had killed the whole population of the town and presently assaulted the duo.

Two of the brutes leapt from an alleyway and Eragon instinctively slaughtered them with magic, using a word meaning _fire_ which Brom had muttered once, failing to hide.

"Boy!" Brom roared.

His anger was due to two things. One: that Eragon had used an unauthorised magical energy (in fact it is only authorised in the _Earthsea _series, but we'll get to that later.) and it had drained his energy. And two (and largely more the cause): the dead Urgals Eragon had killed had fell on Brom's horse in their deaths, therefore disrupting Brom's inner balance and making him drop the VB he'd been sculling.

"You almost killed yourself!" Brom admonished Eragon.

Eragon didn't even bother questioning what Brom meant; he was learning to ignore the majority of the meaningless jargon he spat out.

Brom continued, "We will find another book for you to read in Dras-Leona, it's called the _Earthsea _series, which, like _Dragonflight,_ began in 1968. It should detail all the particular details of the magic language you just used to burn those Urgals. Ursula Le Guin, its author, created a magic system which operated by saying the true name of something in order to have power over it. Virtually the exact same system which operates in this horribly derivative country. Though here it's just a meaningless garble largely derived from Old Norse. They both sap your strength, and shockingly they were both spoken many centuries ago and are only used today by dragons, their riders and sorcerers. Not to mention the elves, who use it all the time. You have _no _idea what a mess their forest has become because of their addiction to _Tales from Earthsea._ Your magic will be channelled through your gedwey ign- pfft, who am I kidding? – the mark of the Orb of Aldur on your palm. "

Eragon then gave a childish display of anger as his defence, as could be expected from his multilayered character, before realising Brom's point of view and saying, "that's pretty cool then! I'm a Dragon Rider, I can use magic!"

"Yes," said Brom dryly, "shame it's from _Earthsea _– which is an awesome series."

_A/N: The Truth of Inheritance is being resolved, with each chapter updated over the course of several months. Was I too harsh? Read _Earthsea _and you'll see what I mean._


	4. Miscellaneous Funmaking

_A/N: I'm surprised people read this, but I'm glad I'm getting through a bit. In fact, I used to like _Eragon _when I hadn't read many other books, which I found were infinitely better once the bad reviews of Paolini's work had got to me. _

Quick Parody: "The best adventure tale you'll ever read," said one reviewer of Eldest. Seriously, who's he kidding with that one? We're talking about a series which has ferociously, and seemingly ignorantly, ripped off the royalty of literature. This bloke was probably payed to say that – and we're talking big bucks.

**Chapter Four: Miscellaneous Fun-making**

I forgot to mention how Eragon gained the traditional weapon, Zar'roc, in my earlier chapters. Nothing special. Though it does have an interesting twist to it – how it's actually Luke's father Anakin's (Darth Vader) swor – excuse me. I haven't seen Star Wars but I'm aware of most of the blatant similarities, so I'm still sceptical of this small development.

Anyhow, Brom and Eragon have been travelling to Teirm. They have been sparring, for want of a less frequently used word, with Zar'roc and another sword. This is one of Eragon's favourite pastimes, as it kicks the _wyrda _out of being a farmboy. This would be fairly obvious seeing that he'd been a farmboy in the "remote village which is visited by strangers who change the main character's life forever" all his life and all he knew was hunting and making fun of Perrin Ayb – cough – Roran.

His other hobbies include learning Old Norse, and using the power it commanded to kill defenseless animals without the justice of giving them a chance to defend themselves. (For the confronting mechanics of this process refer to page 170 of _Eragon_).

One day, while they were nearing the end of their journey in the Spine (of the world), Eragon asked Brom about the sea, seeing as he'd never seen it he was naturally intrigued.

Brom then went on to tell him how it was essentially a raging bathtub the limits of which were the coasts of the clichéd country they now capered across. He also mentioned that it held a special place in the hearts of the elves, who lived in the forest because they loved it so dearly. Is this even remotely near to creating a slight ringing sensation in the bells of people's minds who may not have even _read The Lord of the Rings_?

"There is a song about it," said Brom, "which the elves made."

"Can I hear it?!" Eragon asked eagerly.

"Nah," Brom declined, "it's really just a hopeless attempt at rehashing Tolkien's great songs from his Arda Legendarium. If you want to hear it, you can read similar, but better stuff, in the library in Dras-Leona. The elves have a strong addiction also to Tolkien's literary works."

That night, after they'd been sparring and Brom kept alive his record of absolutely out-sparring Eragon for every night consecutively since they began this misadventure, they had a meaningful discussion.

For all you Saphira lovers out there she proudly makes her smug return now – man I love that word. She was resting her now huge blue head by the fire, listening and occasionally making meaningful comments to Eragon in the tradition of _Dragonriders of Pern._ These meaningful comments consisted sometimes of 'that's called a stick, little one," and sometimes questions such as: "Why do you put on a deep voice when you're around Brom, do you think it makes you sound tougher?"

"Eragon, my boy," said Brom (in this case he meant it literally as he was the biological father of Eragon, but decided for some bizarre reason not to tell him), "I'm going to tell you a bit about the history of the Dragon Riders." As you must now come to expect, Brom was making this speech with a VB in hand. The reader struggles to understand where his inexhaustible stock of this beverage is hidden… Many Truth of Inheritance enthusiasts suggest that Saphira has been commissioned by Brom to fly in slabs of 32 from any nearby town at least once a week while Eragon is out killing defenseless animals.

"Hey… can I have one of those?" asked Eragon slowly, "I've been learning all you taught me and—"

Brom laughed in his face. "Grow up boy. Dragon Riders don't drink this stuff – they can't stomach it. Uh, what I mean is that it contaminates their use of the Ancient Language."

"But I'm old enough!" Eragon protested in a whine. "I turned 16 while we were travelling in the Spine-"

"Fine then, you can have a VB when you beat me at sparring," Brom conceded, playfully punching Eragon on the shoulder.

_Brom is a harsh teacher, little one, just in case you didn't kno-_

"What was that Saphira!?" Demanded Brom.

_He can read my thoughts? _Thought Saphira worriedly, _In that case, he's a _great_ mentor._

"Thank you Saphira," said Brom sweetly, generously tossing the young dragon a VB. She caught it deftly in her jaws, cracked it, sculled it, and tossed it away having had her way with it.

"You're a sucker for praise! That's hardly fair!" Exclaimed Eragon, "she's younger than _me_! You're going to get a dragon drunk?!"

"No, of course not," laughed Brom, "you really think that I would give up that many to her? I'm a selfish old man, you know that."

_Really Eragon, don't be childish. It's not all it's cracked up to be. _She said sarcastically but seriously, with a hint of smugness.

Eragon sat down grumpily to listen to the rest of Brom's lecture. "How did you hear her thoughts?" He asked after a while.

"Not so glad you asked," said Brom, "it's a trick Dragon Riders can learn, and other magicians. Thought broadcasting. Many radio technicians are also trying to figure out its working components."

"Now, as I was saying about the history of the Dragon Riders," Brom picked up where he'd left off, "the Dragon Riders were an order founded long ago to maintain peace in this miserable kingdom. Incidentally, as it is so far of no interest at all, the first Rider's name was also Eragon. Funny eh? Coincidence – undoubtedly. Anyway, about a hundred years ago the King of this Empire, and yes I'm still at a loss to explain that political little mishap, Galbatorix rose as a Dragon Rider and gathered about himself, quite literally, 13 other Riders, who were strikingly similar to the Forsaken from _The Wheel of Time._"

"How so?" Eragon enquired.

"Well," said Brom significantly, and Eragon got the sense that the next part of his speech was going to be significant, "For starters: they were both servants of the 'main villain', for first course: they both have similar names and there are THIRTEEN of them, and for main course: they both betrayed the rest of their magical order for a promise of power, dessert: they both vied for approval from their master. The only difference in this case is that the Forsworn conveniently died. _The Wheel of Time_ is another book series we'll need to borrow at Dras-Leona."

"Hang on a minute," said Eragon, halting the narration, "why are we even going to Teirm? I thought the library was in Dras-Leona. I happen to like reading, but it's not as much fun as killing defenseless animals with—"

"Oh, did I forget that?" said Brom, overriding Eragon, "this VB must be getting to me. I have a friend who lives there. His name is Jeod and–"

"How do you spell that?" Asked Eragon, just out of curiosity.

"J-E-O-D."

"But what you said sounded like _Jode-"_

"Yeah I know, it's another curiously annoying thing about this forsworn - or is it forsaken? – country. No-one can speak properly. He, and by he I mean the _creator of this world_, made it that way in an obvious failed attempt to appear sophisticated, when he was just being difficult."

"Okay," said Eragon, nodding, "go on." (Which was something Brom tended to do considerably often. I don't blame him though; it's fun).

"Yeah, anyway," said Brom, "Jeod has a master library card for the Dras-Leona library. You can get any number of books for free with it."

"Why would we be needing that?"

Brom sighed in exasperation, "because we need to borrow so many books about this country which are about the only good things in it."

"Oh," said Eragon slowly in understanding.

_Yes, _said Saphira slowly in his mind, _while we're there we should see if they have a book called _Dragon Riding for Dummies. _Eh, Brom?_

"Yeah, I'm beginning to get tired of teaching him," said Brom as he chucked his empty VB cans on the fire.

_A/N: Well, (yes I said it significantly), more of the Truth hath been revealed…_

_If you wish to know what happened directly after this scene, you can view it now in Truth of Inheritance uncut below, written by another extremist: _

Eragon scratched his inner thigh because it was itchy.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, boy?"

_Seriously little one, that's not appropriate._

"Yeah! How dare you do that in front of company! Woman company at that!" growled Brom.

"It's my inner thi—"

"Shut up, no one's buying i—"

"I'm telling the tr—"

"Yeah… Eragon, we're not talking about you anymore. So shut up and drink your milk."

"What mil—?"

"Figuratively…Geez, didn't Paolini ever use _any_ sort of metalanguage?"

"Nah, I don't thin—"

"What'd I say!? HUH! I said shut up! That's what I said." Brom shook his head angrily and bent down to scratch his inner thigh.


	5. A Costly Mistake

_A/N: Can anyone else believe that Anne McCaffrey reviewed Eragon, giving it "full praise…and I want more?" Is she blind? Anyhow, she probably didn't want to hurt his feelings, and here's chapter 5!_

**Chapter Five: A Costly Mistake**

After many days in the wilderness, Eragon, Brom and Saphira finally made it to Teirm (is anyone able to pronounce that?) to get a little laminated card. Eragon and Brom stood bedraggled in front of the gates, Eragon with a sour expression on his face and Brom with a hint of a smirk. Much had happened on their journey through the Spine (of the World), which I shall not delve too deeply into.

In a nutshell, Brom and Saphira had had the time of their lives at Eragon's expense. Saphira felt slightly guilty, but Brom only looked at Teirm with enormous relief. The reason – they'd run out of VB.

Seeing how it was the middle of the day the large gates of Teirm were closed for absolutely no reason, so they had to run through a little ritual just to be admitted into town.

Brom led Eragon straight to Jeod (JODE)'s house. They spared a brief glance for the herbalist's store next-door, and a brilliant idea occurred to Eragon. He filed it away in his mind. Brom knocked on the door.

Jeod's wife answered, speaking quite rudely to them as the world wasn't as friendly as it used to be. When she went to tell Jeod of their arrival, Eragon commented fairly on her impoliteness.

"Keep your opinions to yourself!" Snapped Brom (a direct quote from the book, just showing the old wise mentor is sometimes impatient and angry over NOTHING!). "Let _me _do the talking."

Eragon clamped his mouth shut quite literally. He thought he was proving a point. Poor boy.

Jeod was just as old as Brom and almost as unreasonably impatient but probably not as prone to revelry. He led them to a chamber in the citadel because apparently eavesdroppers lurked all throughout the city. People were more likely to listen in on conversations in the _citadel_ of the city than in a relatively quiet house in a relatively quiet street.

Jeod was fascinated by the startling coincidence of Eragon having the same name as the first rider. He also provided this little revelation: The first Rider's dragon was called Bid'Daum. Yeah, it's just your usual Paolini name, with a meaningless, enigmatic apostrophe strutting its stuff in the middle of the word, but no – look deeper! Spell it backwards: Maud'Dib, a creature from Frank Herbert's sci-fi classic _Dune._ Rage in your seats – why Paolini! Why?! There are also some other peculiar similarities between _Dune _and _Eragon_, which Jeod failed to mention because of his bad memory.

Brom told Jeod how he'd had to hide in Carvahall (where he played the role of "man who is more than he seems in a quiet town and strongly resembles Belgarath"). He said many other boring things, not telling everything because he didn't want Eragon to hear before exiling him to check on the horses.

Eragon was startlingly bright enough to know they were hiding something from him and using the old "check on the horses" trick so they could talk about it. However, he was still thick and cowardly enough to actually go check on them before becoming an eavesdropper himself.

Brom and Jeod didn't talk about much, only the rebel group called the Varden, who wanted to overthrow "the dark king." Where would the story be without those who want JUSTICE!

Brom and Jeod decided to celebrate their reunion by carousing in the streets.

"The Empire may be looking out for you boy," Brom told Eragon, "so try to be unnoticed as you check out this city."

Eragon nodded. _He's letting me free!_ He exclaimed to Saphira.

_Good. _She said smugly. _I'm happy for you._

Eragon wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic so he just continued on his way to the herbalist's next-door to Jeod's house. It was time to execute his marvellous idea.

It smelled like herbs inside the herbalist's, which Eragon decided was natural after a minute of thought. He had a brief encounter with a talking cat which wasn't called Salem. Werecats have been unheard of for some time; my critical scanners have picked up on nothing.

"Hi luv I'm Angela, whadda ya want?" The owner of the store showed herself. She was a witch and frightened Eragon for a moment.

"Oh," said Eragon, startled, "I was wondering if you could brew something for me."

"Anything you want," said Angela mystically. Excuse me, that adverb was a touch out of place. It's just that I can't resist – she's just such a mysterious character. "But before we do that I want to tell your fortune."

She did so. She found that Eragon was special, and not just because he was able to talk with a werecat. You wouldn't think it, but Eragon's got a lot going for him, what with being a Dragon Rider and having an interesting fate (having to leave the country in the vein of Frodo and Sam), destined to meet a beautiful princess and also eventually having great magic and sword fighting skills. He's an all rounder.

"So whaddaya wan' me to brew ferya?" Angela asked.

"Just a little concoction to give my friend a surprise," Eragon explained, "Something painful that makes him seem like he's dead."

"Ya wan' me ta kill 'im?" Angela asked.

"No, no! Of course not!" Eragon protested, "Just give him a fright, that's all. His name's Brom, and he deserves it."

"Brom!" Angela exclaimed, "I know him. His occupation is somewhat of a joke among my kind, so I'll be glad to get back at him ferya. You're right, he does deserve it, after all the VB he spits in people's faces and all the people he gets angry at for no reason."

She began to whip something up for Eragon and she handed him a small vial in no time. He thanked her and set out to get Brom back for his harsh teaching methods.

_Little one,_ thought Saphira reproachfully, _you and I both know that you shouldn't be doing this. He may a bit strict but he's _funny_ too—_

_No he's not, thought_ Eragon firmly. When she didn't reply he liked to imagine that she'd raised her eyebrows as if in agreement.

It wasn't too difficult to locate Brom. Eragon saw him from a distance, trademark VB in hand, dancing in the street with Jeod.

"So much for being inconspicuous, filthy hypocrite," growled Eragon.

"Boy! What are ya doing? I told you to stay unnoticed!" Brom snarled, then broke into a bout of uncontrollable laughter.

"You're a hypocrite!"

"What?"

"I said," said Eragon slowly (making his voice deeper with a brief thought for Saphira), "you're a hypocrite."

"What!"

Eragon rolled his eyes and pretended to dance behind his contradictory mentor. After a few misses he got some of Angela's potion into Brom's can.

Brom took a swig and the effects were instantaneous. He fell to the ground after a fit of coughing and much cradling of his head. Jeod danced off, evidently unaware of the apparent demise of his long-time friend. Eragon smirked – victory.

Eragon thought he was triumphant, but over the next few days Brom didn't wake up. Worry and guilt began to gnaw at his soul until Saphira urged him to take the old man to Angela, who was also a doctor as well as an herbalist.

She took one look at him and surmised that he was… "Dead."

"What! I didn't want this!" Eragon screamed.

_I told you so, little one, _Saphira said smugly.

_A/N: Ooh – Cliffy! Not really. Please tell me what you think._


End file.
